Six Maniacs - North Road trip to the Ghent - 6 November 2004

By Nick Harris           

photos click here 

   For those of you old enough to remember, the last time six day racing could be seen on British soil was in 1980 (I think) and ever since the Ghent Six is where Brits have gone to get their annual fix of winter track racing – I know there is now the Revolution series at the Manchester Velodrome but it’s not a “six” and let’s face it, Belgium has the history, the beer the atmosphere, the food, the beer the friendly locals, the pubs that never shut.  And I shouldn’t forget to mention the beer.  So after some umming, aahing and negotiating with partners where applicable, five men (your president Andy Lancaster, serial organizer of trips but taking a back seat this time Richard Somerset, young trackman George Olive and two men who should know better - Jim Ewers and Chris Glithero) stepped up to the plate and entrusted a part of their future happiness and source of lifelong memories to me as organiser.  They also let me come along which was good of them I think.  To cut a long and occasionally traumatic story short, ferry and track tickets were booked, hotel rooms were reserved although not necessarily in the same hotel (hint to future travelers – the “Six” is very popular so book hotel and track tickets early) and drivers were press-ganged.
 
As a self - nominated driver I like the ferry, it gives me a break between the over-crowded English motorways and the longer but more relaxing drive to Ghent.  Anyway, compared to previous years when we seemed to take longer in Ghent looking for the hotel than we actually spent on the motorway in Belgium, this year the navigation was more straightforward.  There was a minor alarm when Chris who was driving the lead car turned off the motorway at least two junctions early; was this a sneaky short cut we wondered - but no – it was for a comfort break that couldn’t wait until the next services.  No prizes will be awarded for guessing who needed comforting.
 
Since the main purpose of this article is to tell you about the six I’ll skip forward to later on Friday when after a filling and tasty meal washed down with a beer or three in the Bridge restaurant we braved a downpour of biblical proportions and walked the mile or so to the track – “not much further” I said a number of times which was met with varying degrees of credulity particularly from Ghent Six virgins George and Andy.  We finally arrived at the track and stashed our dripping coats in the cloakroom (hint number 2 – you will be too hot wearing anything more than a shirt at the track so don’t bother with jumpers.  It’s probably a cunning ruse to increase spectators’ beer consumption – not that much encouragement is required in my case.)  We quickly found our seats and scanned the scoreboard to see the state of play and in particular how the Brits were doing.  Rob Hayles and his partner Jimi Madsen from Denmark were off the pace and too many laps down to have a realistic chance of challenging for the lead and the Downing brothers were having a torrid time and seemed to be out of their league in last place.  So the news wasn’t great but the local fans seemed happy enough – their adopted son Matthew Gilmore partnered with man mountain Robert Bartko and local Ghent boy Iljo Keisse paired with Andreas Beikirch were giving them plenty to cheer about.  I’m not sure that I can adequately describe the racing, it still amazes me that crashes during the Madisons are almost unknown even though 26 riders are speeding at 60 km per hour round a track less than 200m in diameter for 40 minutes – it’s almost poetry in motion and quite mesmerizing at times.  For those unfamiliar with “Sixes”, the Madison is the core of the racing where teams gain and lose laps; the other events such as derny racing, devils, fastest laps and points races are to some extent fillers enabling teams to build up their points scores that separate teams that would otherwise be tied on the same lap.  They also allow the riders to rest.
 
By about midnight Jim and Chris took their leave while Andy, Richard, George and myself decided to get our money’s worth by staying to the end of the racing at about 2 am.  You can wander into the track centre which is uncomfortably crowded earlier in the evening but thins out a bit after midnight.  It allows you to get closer to the racing but you can get a bit dizzy if you try to follow the riders for a whole lap.  For the spoke sniffers amongst us there is also the opportunity to watch the mechanics at work although mostly work seems to be wiping the bikes down after each race and occasionally changing wheels.
 
We were back in the hotel by about 2.30 am but I wasn’t ready for bed just yet so I persuaded Richard to continue the evening (morning?) with a quest to see whether Ghent really was a city that never sleeps.  It doesn’t – well not until after 4.30 am was our conclusion.
 
I’d like to tell you about Saturday morning in Ghent but I can’t since you won’t be surprised to learn that I didn’t see much of it but if it’s anything like the early afternoon it must be great.  Ghent is a very picturesque city – a little like Bruges I guess but with fewer tourists and a slightly more workaday appearance although the area around the Cathedral rivals anything Bruges (or Brugge as the locals say) has to offer.  There are also loads of shops so if you’re accompanied by someone for whom shopping is more interesting than watching a bunch of blokes with unpronounceable names riding round in circles you can maintain cordial relations with some retail therapy.  Alternatively you can find a café or bar to while away the time until the next feed station.  One shop that is worth a visit is Plums which I gather was something of a mecca for bike riders of a certain age (up the League!).  It’s still there but they don’t sell much that can’t be bought in England – that’s globalisation for you.  I’m old enough to be nostalgic about team jerseys carrying sponsors’ names that I can’t pronounce let alone have any idea what product they were advertising.
 
Saturday evening was largely a repeat of Friday although we didn’t eat at the Bridge  (sorry Jim) and it was drier.  Rob Hayles spent more time on the track – I think he was struggling with illness – and the Downing brothers took more heavy punishment to the extent that they withdrew (or were withdrawn) from one of the Madisons.  Matthew Gilmore and Iljo Keisse got big cheers when they hit the front or won one of the other races.  Richard expressed some disappointment that the Brits were not doing well but for me it somehow adds to the atmosphere when the crowd gets behind a local rider.  Derny racing is very popular and some of the riders are as well known as the non - motorised competitors.  We debated at some length whether the derny racing in particular was “fixed” but it’s impossible to tell.  It’s excellent entertainment and I guess that’s what matters, it’s not the Olympics after all.  For those of us like me who despite all the doping issues in the sport are still a bit star struck, it was something of a thrill to see Johann Museeuw make his way up to a seat near us but although I was egged on by my companions I didn’t chase after him for an autograph or photo.  I sort of wished I had now – maybe next year.
 
With thoughts of the drive home on Sunday I decided not to sample the Ghent night - life again and turned in at about 2.30 am.  We still managed to see all the racing though which I thought was quite an achievement given the advancing years of some of the group.
 
There’s not much more to add really, the journey home was trouble free and we arrived back in Ware at about 5 pm on Sunday.  Would I go again?  Definitely, but then I’ve been seven or eight times before.  It’s not an especially cheap weekend particularly given the current Sterling/Euro exchange rate but I think its well worth it – good food, good beer, top class bike racing – what more do you need?  Well, plenty actually but that’s another story.